Fine
by Ceasefire
Summary: [HavocRoy, spoilers End of Series] The morning that Roy didn’t kiss him, Jean knew something was terribly wrong.


Been a while since I posted anything here. I've been writing too much smut for my writing journal! Beware of spoilers for the entire anime series... and be aware thatI do not own Fullmetal Achemist.

* * *

Every morning, it was the same routine for Jean Havoc. He didn't become bored with it nor did he avoid it in its simplicity, its comfort, and its normality.

Firstly, Roy would awake him as the dark-haired man had developed a habit of rising with the sun. Roy would yawn loudly, and drag himself into the bathroom to start the day at headquarters early. The water pipes would groan their complaint as Roy ran his shower and Jean made a valiant attempt to savour his extra twenty minutes of sleep while listening to the water hit the tiles and Roy's skin from the next room. Soon enough, the pipes would groan again as Roy twisted the taps off, Havoc would roll onto his stomach and press his face into his pillow to try and avoid the bright sunlight that was now streaming through Roy's bedroom window, which had been void of curtains since they had accidentally left the window open one stormy night while they were making love.

Roy would leave the bathroom without disturbing Jean, and go and eat breakfast hurriedly; Roy's breakfast often consisted of whatever piece of fruit happened to be lying around or a piece of toast. Quick, easy, and allowing for plenty of time to get to the office and make himself perfectly comfortable before Jean was even out of the apartment. However, no matter how late Roy was running that day, or how early, and no matter what he needed to do before he got to work and no matter how busy he thought he'd be, Roy always made time for the most important ritual of the day.

Jean smiled and rolled onto his back as he heard the soft tapping of the heels of Roy's standard issue boots on the wooden floor of the apartment. Roy stood at the doorway for a moment, surveying the scene even though it was the same nearly every morning; Jean lying on his back, arms outstretched and one fair eyebrow arched in invitation, the plain white sheets barely pulled up to his slim hips. Roy walked across the room and to the bed, knees digging into the soft mattress as he kneeled and crawled towards his lover with the air of a prowling cat. Once Roy was firmly seated in Jean's lap, with arms wrapped possessively around his waist and one thumb finding its way under the dress shirt to touch pale skin, Roy would lean in slowly and press a slow kiss to Jean's lips, teeth tugging gently at the blond's bottom lip and tongue brushing against Jean's palate. And Jean would simply submit, arms tightening around Roy's waist and skin prickling as Roy ran his gloved hands down Jean's chest.

Once they had kissed for as long as they permitted themselves, Roy would break away with one last longing flick of his tongue against Jean's lips, and purr words that were beautifully simplistic, but utterly possessive all in the same tone.

"Good morning."

As soon as that was done, Jean would release Roy and both would watch each other with longing eyes as Roy disappeared around the doorframe, and left his apartment.

It was like this every morning, no matter what; Roy would always find time to be with Jean before they both stepped into the formal blue of their uniforms and ranks, and Jean was fine with this, _longed_ for this with every waking day.

The morning that Roy didn't kiss him, Jean knew something was terribly wrong.

* * *

That morning, it was the day after they returned from Lior, before they had made the detour to Risembool to try and catch the Elric brothers, before they had made the detour to the hospital to bandage Jean's hand and Fuery's head, and Jean managed to sleep through nearly all of Roy's usual morning routine, and only awoke just in time to hear the dark-haired man darting around in the kitchen, searching for something to eat. Jean almost felt guilty for ruining this routine in all of its glory, and dragged himself out of his warm haven between Roy's sheets, grabbing the underwear he'd discarded next to the bed the night before on his way out to the kitchen. Jean paused to curse his bandaged hand in the doorway of the bedroom as he tried to tug his boxers on with only one hand, and looked up when he heard Roy's soft chuckle.

But something was wrong. Usually, Roy sounded so smug and carefree. This time, he sounded utterly forced in his mirth.

"Are you alright, Roy?" Jean questioned, while managing to put both his legs through the one right leg hole in his boxers.

Roy smiled and walked over to Jean, tugging his boxers backs down and waiting for Jean to arrange his legs in a single hole each before swiftly pulling the garment up to his lover's hips, pausing to press a kiss to the blond's navel on the way.

"You're asking me whether I'm alright and you can't even get your pants on, Jean," Roy smirked, placing his hands on his hips to admire his handiwork, "Not that I don't approve of you wearing no pants."

"You won't have to stay behind to help me get dressed, if that's the place your dirty little mind is at," Jean snorted, flicking Roy lightly on the nose with his index finger, "I was just in a hurry to catch you before you left, see?"

"I was just about to run out when you caught me, actually..." Roy paused and glanced over his shoulder at the door, "You don't mind if I take off now, do you?"

"Not at all," Jean quirked an eyebrow at his lover's haste.

"Good," Roy said with a brief smile, before dashing for the door, "See you in the office."

"Wait!" Jean started, reflexively reaching towards the door, "You forgot to..."

But Roy was already gone.

Biting down sharply on the sharp fear that suddenly laced his mind, Jean padded slowly back into the bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

It wasn't much better that night after work. Jean got home first, which was part of the usual routine, and patiently sat on Roy's bed until seven o'clock, which was the usual time Roy came home.

Quarter-past seven.

Half past.

Quarter-to.

Eight o'clock.

Jean reheated the last of the food he and Roy had made the night before for dinner, and ate it alone on the bed.

Nine-thirty.

Ten o'clock.

Quarter to eleven.

Where was Roy? Hadn't he said he'd be home as soon as possible? Maybe as soon as possible wasn't as soon as he'd assumed.

Jean stayed up until well past midnight, sitting on Roy's bed and picking at the leftover grains of rice from his reheated meal. The next morning when Jean woke up, the leftover rice was crusted to the glass of the bowl, he was still in uniform, and he was still alone. Sighing, Jean placed the bowl on the bedside table, and went to splash cold water on his face. If Roy had been there, he would have poked his head around the shower curtain, grinned and flicked cold water onto him back. That had always made him yelp and glare, but when Roy shut off the shower, walked over to him and pressed his soaking, naked skin against him and kissed him, Jean would forget straight away.

There was no forgetting today. Not really caring that he looked like he'd just crawled out of bed, Jean grabbed his coat from where he'd discarded it at the door the night before and slammed Roy's apartment door behind himself, harder than he intended but satisfying nonetheless.

* * *

Sitting hunched over his desk with an order to show up at the Parade Ground that day with all the other troops, Roy looked more tired than Jean felt. Scratching at his white bandage uncomfortably, Jean went back to signing documents and damn near punched a hole through the paper with his pen.

Roy blinked and glanced at him.

"Anything wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, _Sir_" Havoc responded, chewing on the filter of the cigarette resting between his lips. From across the room, Hawkeye shot them both a worried look.

"Are you going to be staying back late again tonight, Boss?" Havoc queried, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

"No, not tonight," the Colonel responded, gazing at Jean with dark eyes, "Tonight I have something important to discuss with someone I care about."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Havoc took a long drag on his cigarette and dotted the 'i' on 'Lieutenant Jean Havoc' sharply with his pen.

"And what are those matters?"

"They are confidential between myself and the person I care about."

Gritting his teeth, Jean put the last document he'd signed to the side.

"I'm sorry for asking, Sir. It's none of my business."

"No matter, Lieutenant. Could you please bring me that document you just finished with?"

Jean nodded and got to his feet, walking slowly over to Mustang's desk and placing the paper in front of his superior.

"Have fun with that, Sir."

"I try."

Havoc turned on his heel and walked back to his own desk, idly wondering why Hawkeye was still looking at them with such worried eyes.

* * *

That night, Jean returned to Roy's apartment after his lover, whose rank was now upped to Brigadier General. Roy was sitting on his bed, waiting for Jean to arrive.

"Jean?"

The blond man grunted in response.

"Jean, come here."

Just as commanding a tone as Roy would address him with in the office. Jean gritted his teeth, shrugged off his jacket and went to meet Roy in their bedroom.

"Jean, what's troubling you?"

"Nothing."

"I can tell when something is wrong."

_So can I._ Jean grunted again, stripped out of his uniform and went to lie down on his side of the bed, facing away from Roy and with sheets pulled right up to his chin.

"Going to bed so soon?"

"I'm tired."

Roy laughed; a light, humourless chuckle that made Jean shiver.

"It's only five o'clock."

"Well, I was up late last night."

Roy paused, letting the silence between them hang.

"Waiting for me?"

"Yes, waiting for you!" Jean snapped, sitting bolt upright and tossing the sheets back, "Do you know how worried about you I was? How long I was wondering where you were? What you were doing? Who you were with!"

"Jean, calm down," Roy regarded him with grave eyes.

"You're asking me to calm down? You won't even tell me where you were!" Jean snapped.

_"Jean."_

_Shit._ The blond stopped to regard his lover, who was still sitting, regarding him with the same cold expression.

"Jean, I would never leave you in the dark for longer than I needed to, but to understand this, you have to calm down and listen to me."

Jean shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, but sighed and submitted when Roy reached out to hold both of his hands.

"Jean, I need you to do something important for me..."

* * *

Jean looked at himself in the mirror. This uniform was a little too small for him, a little too awkward for him to wear. He sighed, and massaged at his temples momentarily, trying to comprehend everything Roy had told him the night before.

It was too hard to believe. Too difficult to understand. He didn't want to understand it in the first place. But Roy had told him, and he had to believe him.

Jean sighed and looked at all the extra stars on his shoulder with resentment.

_"Jean..." Roy whispered as his lover pressed him into the mattress, lips brushing across the smaller man's neck and shoulders and cheeks as they moved against each other and savoured every touch, every taste, every kiss and every moment of their time together._

_Jean sighed softly and pressed a long kiss to Roy's lips. When they broke apart, Roy was staring at him again._

_"Jean, promise me that you'll come back alive."_

_Jean nodded until his vision started spinning and kissed Roy again, pressing him back into the pillows as they made love._

_"I promise."_

Frowning and gritting his teeth, Havoc pulled on the dark wig that Roy had given him that morning and put Roy's formal hat on over that.

For the next few days, there would be no good morning kisses for Jean Havoc, sent to the war-torn North with a healing wound under Pyrotex gloves, nor for Roy Mustang, going to the hospital to have his nonexistent wound checked on by a fawning nurse before attempting to kill the leader of their country.

For the next few days, there was only their mission, and a faint glimmer of hope.

* * *

When Jean got to the hospital, four days after Roy and he had last seen each other, Hawkeye was waiting outside their commander's hospital room for him.

"Jean," she said, and that in itself was more than what one thousand words could say.

"Is he alright?"

"He's getting a little better now... he managed to ask if I was injured before," she laughed bitterly, and touched the blond man's arm, "He's been asking after you."

Jean nodded his thanks as Riza twisted the doorknob of their superior's hospital room and let him in the door, quietly shutting it behind Jean, staying outside, and protecting Roy as she always had.

Roy was an absolute mess, with nearly every visible inch of his skin covered in white bandages and his left eye covered by a heavy patch.

He hurt, but he was alive. _He was alive._

Roy mumbled softly and opened his one good eye tiredly, looking almost surprised when he saw Jean sitting in the wooden chair beside his bed.

"Jean...?" Roy asked, almost not believing it, voice soft and weak.

Jean smiled gently, and then slowly leaned over Roy, moving downward as flow as he could possibly bear until he had pressed a slow, soft kiss to Roy's chapped lips.

"Good morning, Roy."

**END**


End file.
